


I'll Leave It All

by cruelest_month



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Bittersweet, Commitment, Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ferelden Road Trip, Humor, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While everyone and everything else had slipped through his fingers like so many grains of sand, Hawke had managed to hold onto Anders. To what they had. To moments like this. That was all that mattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Leave It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TCRegan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/gifts).



> This fic is a slightly belated birthday present for TCRegan who wanted something with Anders and Hawke wandering about together after Kirkwall. The title is inspired by the lyrics to "Budapest" by George Ezra. A song which is, to my mind, a very Hawke song. 
> 
> I also realized, after writing, I went with a rogue Hawke and kept Carver alive when in the game it's the opposite. Part of me considered revising, but even killing Carver off through the power of editing felt wrong. Hopefully this will not upset anyone too terribly much.

*

He should have been angry. He ought to have been, and the thought has occurred to him so many times. He wasn’t. He was relieved and sad and worried and happy. He was also cold, but then their cave was freezing.

He wasn’t entirely sure as to where they were exactly. Maybe the Maker knew but Hawke hardly wanted to think about the fellow for very long. It seemed likely that he was not in the Maker’s good graces nor was he likely to be pulled back towards His loving embrace or Andraste’s heaving bosom. But he’d made that choice, and he accepted it.

Anders was sitting close by, hunched over the same way he had been on the box back in Kirkwall. He seemed, as he so often did lately, to be waiting for Hawke to change his mind.

Odd, really. Hawke wasn’t sure how he could be in love with someone he so infrequently understood, but he was in love. Very much so, and nothing seemed to change that.

“Well, I’m cold,” Hawke declared after a while. “And you?”

“About the same,” Anders muttered.

“Could do with more fire. Flame’s gone out.”

“Right.” Anders snapped his fingers over the small pile of kindling in front of them before going back to being gloomy.

Had things been slightly different, Hawke would have pointed out that if he wanted to be miserable and cold both in spirit and temperature, he’d have stuck with Carver or Fenris when they had paired off. Merrill and Isabela went one way while Fenris and Carver went another. Varric and Aveline had gone back to Kirkwall.

They had all agreed to meet up somewhere near some landmark in the Hinterlands in two months’ time and from there they would sort out how often they could afford to gather in one place. In the interim, they couldn’t travel in large groups, and the change was sudden and difficult. Hawke had being doing his level best to accept that they all would be spending far more time apart than together, but losing track of them was too much for Hawke to bear. The hardest, most awkward goodbyes were always with Carver. The two people he missed the most were Varric, which was obvious, and Fenris, which wasn’t terribly surprising but a little startling. 

However, bringing up any of the others would be unkind at best, especially Varric or Fenris. During the brief month of fleeing from Kirkwall and debating their next move, his companions had all seemed determined to treat Anders like an unknowable, unwanted monstrous thing that Hawke had found. It was as if any past friendships, truces, or understandings had never actually happened. 

Fenris, at least, was only remaining consistent, but the rest of them… Perhaps they felt obligated to be increasingly hostile. Perhaps they thought vigilance was secretly why Hawke was keeping the group together. Or perhaps they mistakenly assumed that someone else needed to be angry and disapproving at all times if Hawke would not take on the role himself. 

“Could you refrain from staring at the wall like that?” Hawke asked. “It’s a bit weird.”

“I’m not starting at the wall.”

“What are you looking at then, Anders? There’s literally nothing here besides you and me and the stalactites. Maybe a handful of bats farther back.” They’d cleared out the undead skeletons and giant spiders already.

Anders shrugged.

“Do I look that bad?” Hawke asked, feeling at his face. “It’s only been a few days. Aren’t I just as ruggedly handsome as ever.”

“I’m sure you look fine.”

“Then look at me.”

“Do you really want that?”

Hawke blinked. “How I often say things I don’t mean?”

Anders sighed, looking over at Hawke. “Never. Hello, love.”

“Hello,” Hawke said gently. “Why wouldn’t I want you to look at me?”

“How much time do I have to list all of the reasons?”

“That rather depends. Are any of them valid?”

Anders shook his head. “You’ve lost everything. Because of me.”

“Correction. I gave up everything. For you.”

“Which is what I just said.”

“No, there’s a real difference. Thing is, you’ve never had much in the way of possessions so I suppose it’s confusing.”

“It is not confusing. It is perfectly clear that—“

“That what I did was for you, and I was glad to do it? That I am hoping the sacrifice could be seen as a romantic if stupidly clumsy gesture? I doubt my actions are as transparent to you as they ought to be, but that is what I intended.”

“Foolish,” Anders said, his tone changing. His skin was covered in small, glittering fissures of blue for half a second.

Hawke just ignored it, which wasn’t very hard to do when they were alone together. Without more significant, antagonistic sources to feed on, the brightness of the blue was just another way to gauge how irritated Anders was with him. “Yes, well… Giving up things for someone else is how it ought to be. Losing everything because of someone is just depressing. For you, I’d give up everything. Do you know how often people say that?”

“A great deal, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but don’t get snippy, Anders. I have a point to make.”

“Might you consider making it then?”

“I might,” Hawke said cheerfully. “If you let me.”

“You may proceed.”

“Excellent. So we’re in agreement that everyone says that they’d give up everything for someone they love. But how often does someone actually get the chance to do that?” Hawke asked with a satisfied smile. “I have. I got the chance to prove that what I feel for you is more than a pile of words and meaningless trinkets. I took it.” He hoped Varric would include that detail in his book.

Anders bristled. “And this…what? Makes you happy? Makes you a hero? Makes you better than me? What is it you get out of having done that?”

“ _You_ , you strange man. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me.”

Anders got his feet, looking exasperated. “You’re an idiot.”

Hawke grinned up at him. “I don’t recall saying that we were both getting something spectacular out of the arrangement.”

It seemed for a moment that Anders would leave. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he stormed out of the cave or found another place to sit further inside given his mood. But he just stood there, rubbing his temples. Eventually, he sat back down. He was frowning, expression a bit stern and foreboding, but he took Hawke’s hand in his.

“You’re warm,” Hawke said, holding Anders’ hand up to his face and letting it cover his nose. And then both of his cheeks one at a time. “Thanks. So. Hello again. Sticking around, are you?”

Anders sighed heavily.

“Well? Are you staying or—”

“Yes, yes. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Because there’s nowhere else to go?”

“Hardly.” Anders kissed the back of Hawke’s hand. “Because I love you. It occurs to me that I shouldn’t give up the one good thing I have.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re not going to provide me with an uplifting lecture on all the other good things I have?”

“Like what exactly? Your delightful sense of humor? Your infectious sense of optimism? At the moment, I’m half-convinced that I am the one good thing you’ve got going for you.”

Anders smiled. “But what a thing, eh?”

“I am pretty great,” Hawke agreed. “And I love you too. Could be worse.”

“Could be,” Anders muttered.

*

They were, as it turned out, somewhere along the Storm Coast. Just where, well, Hawke had a feeling most people could have figured it out, but he couldn’t. That was what he’d liked about Kirkwall. Once you got the hang of one cave or a set of narrow mountain passages, you understood how the rest of them worked without needing a map.

“Let’s trade,” Anders suggested. He seemed to have thawed a bit overnight once they’d finally— _finally_ —gone back to sharing a bedroll. And they both slept better when they woke up in a tangle of limbs. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason, a shift in Anders’ mood was nothing new, and Hawke was more than content to not question the reasons behind it. “Take your oatmeal, and I’ll take the map.”

“Yes, but… I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Anders agreed. “But the fact remains that you’re holding it upside down. Here. Give it to me.”

Hawke handed the map over, taking his breakfast and trying to eat it slowly. “I think we’re near the big grey dot,” he added between mouthfuls.

Anders peered at him from over the crinkled edges of the parchment. “Do you mean this bit of lint that’s stuck to the island in the far left corner? The one that’s totally inaccessible without a boat?”

“Um. Do I?”

Anders brushed the map off with a sigh. “This is a very basic survival skill. One that you really ought to have mastered by now, love.”

“I have you for map-reading. That’s the whole reason why we met.”

“We met because you needed maps, not so I could spend the rest of my days telling you where you are.”

“You like it.”

“I don’t mind it,” Anders admitted. “Now look. Here we are about fifteen miles away from any of these landmarks you were staring at. We are most certainly not on Dragon Island.”

“Can we be on Dragon Island later?”

“Absolutely not.”

Hawke sighed. “All right.”

They packed up what little they had, splitting the supplies evenly and heading out to nowhere in particular.

“Maybe we should visit another country,” Hawke mused.

“Perhaps, but I can’t imagine which country that ought to be.”

“Tevinter?”

“Where we can become indentured servants for the next ten years?”

“True. And Fenris would never let us stay there.”

“He’d never let _you_ stay there,” Anders corrected. “Anyway, we haven’t the coin, connections, or bloodlines for Tevinter. Orlais isn’t an option...”

“Never again,” Hawke agreed. “Our last visit was terrible.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of my being a wanted apostate and fugitive and all.”

“Oh. Right. And I am too come to think of it.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

“Rivain maybe? If they’re all like Isabela, we’d have a grand time.”

“Maybe. Obviously the Free Marches ought to avoided for as long as we can help it. I suppose we should at least look at the rest of Ferelden while we’re here. Not that there’s anywhere particularly worth re-visiting but…”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s left of Lothering. Or Ostagar. We could have fun in the Korcari Wilds. Wear very little. Make our own village on stilts...”

“A village on stilts?”

“Would you rather live in a tree? We could do that.”

“I’m not sure either idea is all that appealing. Or safe.”

“Why ever not? How can a tree be a bad idea? You lived in a sewer that spewed poisonous gas.”

“Near a sewer, and it was a toxic fog. And… it isn’t the location. Don’t take this the wrong way, Hawke, but I’m picturing the rickety shack you’d build for us and its sad stilts and it seems like a very bad idea.”

“I may not be able to read maps, but I’m good with my hands. A fact, serrah,” Hawke said, waggling his fingers, “that you are well acquainted with.”

“Good with your hands on me is quite different than your hands on a piece of wo… Never mind. I don’t want to give you any ammunition.”

“Suit yourself, but I could build us a lovely home. In time.”

“I think we ought to consider a cave or something more sensible. Further away from other people.”

Hawke sighed. He rather liked other people. He rather liked the idea of a home somewhere even if it was in a tree or surrounded by suspicious tattooed people who wore very little.

Anders wrapped his arm around one of Hawke’s as they kept walking. “I know. Circumstances may change, but we can’t have anything permanent just yet. There’s no way of knowing what will happen.”

“We should be able to have a home. I don’t understand why it always has to be so difficult.”

“It doesn’t have to be for you. Just you, I mean.”

“There’s not really a just me or a just you. We’re pretty much just… Forgive the pun, but we’re just us.”

Anders chuckled before sighing heavily. “I’d have spared you this if I could. I did try, you know.”

“Yes, well, please don’t do me any favors along those lines. When the urge strikes you to try and save me by causing any sort of harm to yourself, recall that I need you. That I gave everything up to keep you— to keep _us_ — together.”

“What you’ve done for me is not something I’m likely to forget.”

“Good.”

“I couldn’t leave you anyway.”

“Because you love me so very much.”

Anders snorted. “Because you can’t read a map. I’d leave and you’d end up in the Deep Roads and then I’d have to attempt to rescue you anyway. Or you’d get yourself eaten by bears or a dragon. No, I’d prefer to remain with you.”

“Leading me into trouble rather than following me into it?”

“Either or,” Anders said.

*

Fortunately, the Lyrium Falls were not made of lyrium, which meant Hawke could afford to take a shower underneath its gentle current. He shivered, shaking water every which way before drying off near the fire Anders had prepared. He sighed before changing into an extra set of clothes. The rest he’d washed in the stream, and he was hoping they’d dry over the course of the night. Otherwise he’d have Anders work some magic on them.

“We need actual food,” Hawke pointed out as he rifled through the meager remaining supplies in his pack.

“Go get us some.”

“Couldn’t you just freeze some fish?”

“I could only so could you.”

“Not as well,” Hawke said hopefully. 

“That won’t work on me. Not when it is your turn to get us something to eat. If it helps, I saw a small herd of goats up there,” Anders said pointing to the rocky path next to their camp. “Go hunting. You could use the exercise and I’d like a shower.”

“We just walked all over the Storm Coast,” Hawke whined. “And if you’re showering, I’d rather watch. You got to watch me.”

Anders shook his head before smirking. “If I did then it’s your own fault, love. You’re the one who insisted we take turns. Both in terms of showers and food-gathering, as I recall.”

“Fine.”

Hunting mountain goat was a fairly miserable way to pass the afternoon. Even with his various attacks and stealthy tricks, it was difficult to catch even a goat unawares. It also didn’t help that, without anyone else around, Hawke had the attention span of a gnat and the patience of...Well, a very impatient thing. He wished he’d brought Varric with or… No, best not to think of Sebastian as anything other than a potential future problem. 

More to the point, neither man was available to aid him with the hunt, and Hawke’s own archery skills were dismal at best. These skills were, however, impossible to put to use when he didn’t have a bow or any arrows with him. Daggers had always just seemed more practical anyway. Archers were always having to pull arrows out of corpses or eyes. Disgusting. Then if they ran out, there were utterly useless until they had time to fletch new ones. Warriors were always getting cramped muscles, sore shoulders, and bad knees from the ridiculous overcompensation they did via swords and axes and shields. 

Daggers were the best. When it came time to kill a spider that landed on your hand when you were trying to sleep, you wanted daggers. You didn’t want to tell the spider to wait for you to find some arrows. You certainly didn’t want to accidentally chop your own hand off or give yourself a hernia with your two-handed maul made of a flaming dragon’s skull. When it came time to deal with larger spiders, you wanted daggers as well. Or for Anders to kill them. Spiders were the worst. 

All right, but still daggers could theoretically handle any given situation. Bandits trying to rob you? A good laugh and daggers. Templars making a fuss somewhere? Some choice words about the Maker and daggers. Blood Mages about the place? All the daggers you could find straight away before they could do any more stupid shite. Rampaging darkspawn? Well, maybe then you wanted your pillock of a brother around to behead the alpha hurlock, but daggers worked. Dragons? ...No, which was another positive aspect to becoming one. Daggers wouldn’t do a damn thing. 

Even if rolling wheel of cheese headed in your direction, you were better off with chasing after it with daggers than trying to shoot it with an arrow. ...Maker, what he wouldn’t have given for even a wedge of cheese, and some company to share his observations with. Well, Anders was back at camp and dinner would probably help him forget about cheese. So Hawke cracked his neck and his knuckles then got to work. 

Once Hawke finally succeeded in killing a ram and a fennec fox, he felt equal parts victorious and exhausted. And sad about the fox. He’d have left it be if it hadn’t gotten in the way. He sighed, stuffing the fox in a bag and putting the ram over his shoulders. He headed down the path, shooing away all of the nugs that were slowly scampering along. Wildlife really didn’t seem to know what was good for it.

“Dinner is… Well, it’s nowhere near ready,” he announced, setting the carcass down. “Help?”

Anders made a face. “If you insist.”

“You might learn something,” Hawke pointed out. “We can use this ram for a lot of things, you know.”

“Besides food?”

“Yes. This will last us quite some time if we salt the meat properly, but if I can get us another one tomorrow, maybe we can use the hide for tents or coats. And we could melt the fat down for candles.”

Anders made a face. “I would really rather avoid making candles that way. You have me for lighting, remember?”

“True.”

Unsurprisingly, Anders mostly watched Hawke butcher the ram, chuckling now and then while Hawke explained all the reasons why daggers were the best weapons. The mage seemed pleased to be Hawke’s go-to person for spider-related emergencies, which only made Hawke love him all the more. 

Thankfully, Anders willing to cook the stew, which was probably for the best. Hawke was not much of a chef, and Anders had a better understanding of what herbs could and could not be used.

An hour or two later, they ate together near the waterfall. They sat together on a dark blue blanket of everknit wool that had once been spread out on their bed back-- Well, not back home, because that wasn’t home any longer. It was a blanket from the place where they used to live. 

They sat close together, backs against a fallen log. Hawke leaned against Anders, nuzzling a feathery shoulder. “Glad you went with me?”

“Always,” Anders murmured, carding a hand through Hawke’s hair. “I suppose I should apologize for the first few days. You… Well, you surprised me by… You’re just so very good. You’re such a good person. And I hurt you. I hurt you, and I did terrible things. And you forgave me.”

“All things considered… I’m not sure my forgiveness ought to mean so very much.”

Anders pulled Hawke closer, kissing his forehead. “All things considered, it means everything.”

Hawke smiled, straddling Anders’ hips. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Anders agreed, kissing Hawke’s neck. “I can’t understand all that you’ve given up for me. But I can regret its necessity. I can regret the harm I’ve caused you. It might very well be that you are all that I can bring myself regret, and still I cannot bear to part with you.”

Hawke put his arms around Anders’ neck and kissed his cheek. “Less of this and more kissing, I think.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I don’t need you to regret a thing, especially not me. And I’d like to see someone try to part us.”

“I would not,” Anders said gruffly before kissing Hawke again.

Hawke smirked as Anders dragged him down to the blanket. And then there wasn’t much time for anything else besides each other.

*

Hawke got up before the sun, kissing Anders gently and wrapping him up in blankets before hunting for another ram. The chase took longer than he expected, and when he returned to camp, he winced when he took in sad, resigned look on Anders’ face.

He set the goat down, moving to Anders’ side and kissing him again. “Just figured I’d make sure we had enough for a new tent,” Hawke said, hugging Anders tightly.

“Wake me up next time,” Anders managed.

They left the Coast in the afternoon and headed for the Imperial Highway, cloaks and hoods drawn tight. Anders hadn’t brought a staff and daggers were nothing strange. Hawke doubted they would attract that much attention unless someone needed a job done, which was always a possibility. One that maybe they could look into seeing as there was usually good coin in it and usually no one asked too many questions.

“It is odd being so near to places you used to run away from?”

Anders chuckled.

“What?”

“Hawke, love, your sense of direction is… abysmal. We’ve barely left the Storm Coast, but we’re no where near Amaranthine. We’re not close enough to anything I’ve run away from for me to have an opinion.”

“Ah.”

“At any rate, I never thought I’d so much as a glimpse of Lake Calenhad again,” Anders admitted. “Once we’re closer, let’s steer clear of the docks and head into the Bannorn.”

This was, of course, when it began to rain. And it was the sort of sudden drastic downpour that made a person want to hold out his hands and wait for fish to start falling.

There weren’t many options save for a little roadside Chantry carved into the side of a hill. The arch in the rock had been painted at one point, but was the warm yellow color was cracked and faded. The altar was covered in wax, and there were only four candle stubs available. Above it all was a rather rudimentary depiction of the Maker turning his back on all of his works.

“I think there’s exactly enough room for one and a half people,” Hawke said. “Unless the two people who happen upon it are awfully fond of each other, which sounds like us. Get over here.”

Anders hesitated in what little doorway there was to hesitate in.

“Come on in,” Hawke suggested in a coaxing tone. “It’s maybe one or two more steps. Or at least give me your hand, sweetheart. I need a light.”

“I’d rather not bother.”

“Chin up, Anders. If lightning hasn’t struck us yet, it’s not going to. And I should like to light a candle for my mother.”

Anders leaned in, snapping his fingers and lighting the wicks of all four candles one by one. “For Leandra,” he murmured. “For Bethany. And for Carver who would fail to appreciate the gesture, I’m sure.”

“And the fourth candle?”

“You.”

That settled that then. Hawke tugged at Anders, chuckling when the mage dug his heels into the wet ground. Eventually, Hawke won but only because Anders let him. He kissed Anders’ cheek, pulling down the mage’s wet hood so he could nuzzle his neck. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Any idea where we are?” Hawke asked, pulling off his cloak and then tugging off Anders’ as well.

“Heading for the Hinterlands. Lothering is just south of them.”

“I know that much,” Hawke groused.

“Maybe we ought to consider forests though. If we opt for a more long-term stay in any one place, that is.”

“I knew you’d warm up to the tree idea.”

“It’s less that and more the fact that we’ll need trees if we’re going to build a shelter of any kind.”

“We could move in here.”

“We barely fit in here,” Anders pointed out. “The Brecilian Forest might be better than the Korcari Wilds. At least until we meet up with the others.”

“We ought to figure out a base camp and a place to store up supplies,” Hawke agreed. “We’ll be meeting up right when fall begins, and we ought to have winter plans. Varric will bring some of what we need, of course, but the rest we’ll have to sort out.”

They watched the rain for a while. Anders let his hands rest on top of Hawke’s. Hawke stayed pressed up behind him, chin resting against Anders’ shoulder.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Anders said quietly.

“As am I.”

“The worst part is you believe that.”

Hawke kissed Anders’ cheek. “That’s the very best part, I think you’ll find.”

“Perhaps, but admitting as much seems like the first step to losing you altogether.”

“Would you give me up so easily?”

“Would you?”

“Never. You have to admit that’s true, at least. I’ve given you nothing but proof of my devotion.”

“I admit it,” Anders quietly replied. “And I doubt everything except for you.”

*

They stopped in a small town just inside of the Hinterlands. Anders sold ram horns to a merchant and Hawke examined the Chantry board. There was some bears making trouble in a glade nearby, and while the coin wasn’t very good, it was something they were able to handle in one afternoon. They were also able to keep the pelts, which were cumbersome to lug around but they would come in handy once things went from cold and damp to frigid and snowy.

“It’s a shame this isn’t one of Varric’s stories,” Hawke said as they sought out shelter. He wasn’t sure where they ought to stop, to be honest. They couldn’t afford an inn, and the actual bear cave had been smelly and disgusting. “If it was, there would have been a beehive with honey and possibly a hidden treasure chest for us.”

 

“I’d have settled for honey,” Anders said with a shrug. “Only don’t think of that as a request that you locate some so much as an observation that tea is better with honey in it.”

Hawke frowned, looking over at him. “Why can’t it be a request? You don’t think I can provide for you?”

“I think you don’t always have to get me everything I say that I’d like. Or view my politely asking you to refrain as some sort of personal affront to your prowess.”

“But it is an affront,” Hawke protested. “I’m insulted. I can certainly provide honey for my h—”

“Don’t, or I shall be forced to resort to desperate measures.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Anders raised an eyebrow, affecting an innocent expression. “Wouldn’t do what?”

“The lightning trick. It’s so unfair when you use that to shut me up,” only not really because Hawke loved that lightning trick. “It would especially cruel right now when we’ve nowhere to camp.” 

“Less puns then.”

Hawke sighed. “Fine.”

They trudged on for a bit until they found a small rocky passage that lead to a set of caves higher up in the very center of a mountain.

“So who read your maps before me?” Anders asked with a yawn. “Before Kirkwall, I mean.”

Hawke worked on spreading out the bear pelts, one went underneath their bedroll and the other two would go on top. “Father never needed maps. He just always knew where to go. After… Well, we left that sort of thing to Carver, but he was such a little shit about it. He didn’t mind getting all of us lost for days if it meant he could make me look foolish.”

“He gave me quite a lecture before we left.”

Hawke glanced up from the bedding. “Carver? On what? The myriad of possible locations in which to abandon me?”

“No, although he did go into great detail as to just how much harm would come to me should any befall you.”

Hawke shook his head.

“He did. He was very convincing.”

Hawke scowled, hunching his shoulders as he rose to his feet. “It doesn’t change anything. I mean, what good does it do me, Anders?”

“I don’t know if it’s meant to do you any particular good. I suppose all it means is that Carver does the best he can just like you do. I know it isn’t much, but it is something.”

“Could be,” Hawke said gruffly. “I’m going to get firewood.”

“I’ll come with,” Anders decided, nudging Hawke lightly as he moved closer to him. “Can’t have you climbing trees in search of honey once you’re out of my direct line of sight.”

Hawke managed a smile, gesturing for the mage to go first.

They found a creek where Anders began fishing via Winter spells, which in Hawke’s mind, was the only way that allowed the asinine activity to make any sense. Birch branches were plentiful, and in a small clearing Hawke found antlers that would probably fetch a few coins from an apothecary.

When they re-grouped, Anders had almost an entire school of trout. “We could make this work,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Of course we can. I’ve done this sort of thing before, and so have you. Hell, you lived in a sewer for what? Three years?”

Anders scowled. “Hawke.”

“Anders.”

“We’re going to need to agree to disagree on my having lived in a sewer, love.”

“Seeing as Fenris lived in a mansion full of dead people just to avoid having to seek out shelter in Darktown? I’m going to say you lived in a sewer for the rest of our lives together.”

Anders sighed, but he looked fiercely fond and shyly hopeful. “So... for a very long time then?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Hawke kissed Anders’ cheek. “Good.”

*

“All this traveling and pointless meandering ought to feature some kind of fanfare or musical accompaniment,” Hawke observed as they set out the next morning. Early, of course. Far too early for Hawke’s comfort. Anders didn’t seem very affected, but he’d always been a damned morning person.

Anders glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s a shame you didn’t bring your lute.”  
“I, for one, am rather glad that I didn’t.”

Anders sighed. “That’s because you are quite mean.”

“While you, my darling, are completely tone-deaf.”

“Ah, how fickle love is. When you were first courting me, you were all ears. So to speak. 

You let me serenade you on three occasions, if I recall correctly.”

“Three separate and yet equally mortifying occasions. You braying like a donkey and me grimacing whenever you weren’t looking. Dogs in neighboring estates barking loud enough to wake the dead. Mother and Gamlen snickering quietly but obnoxiously in the next room. I was a bit sad that I had to tell you to put an end to it, but only because of the way you looked when you were playing. You really thought you possessed some modicum of talent.”

Anders sighed. “I really, really did. Although one wonders how sad you were considering how much you danced about the room when I said I wouldn’t serenade you ever again.”

“In my defense, I do love you. In spite of your horrible singing.”

“In spite of many things.”

“Mainly in spite of the singing. Most of what you do, you do well. You’re the one who told me you’re supposed to love a whole person.”

“I did at that.”

“Wait,” Hawke said after they were up on a mountain ridge. "Wait, wait,” he added.

Anders sighed. “Love… Please don’t tell me you forgot something.”

“No, but look,” Hawke insisted, pointing the to sky. The sun was slowly rising. There was a streak of orange in the middle and over the clouds. There was pale blue above and soft yellow below. “It’s odd, you know. Noticing the sky so often. Back in Kirkwall, there wasn’t much that I cared to see. Everything was the same and all of it was depressed. But now, here with you… There’s so much more, Anders, and I want to see it all.”

“It’s rather lovely,” Anders murmured, but when Hawke glanced at him, he wasn’t even pretending to consider the sunrise. “You never explained.”

“Explained?” Hawke asked.

“How can you be such a good person? Do you even know?”

“Some sort of fluke if I had to hazard a guess.” Hawke smiled and held his arms out. "Come here?”

Anders didn’t hesitate, and the kiss Hawke got for his troubles was… Well, perhaps not well deserved but it was still a rather glorious thing. It always was, and if he could keep this… Was he really missing out on anything at all? Hawke didn’t think so. In fact, he knew he wasn’t. This was all he needed. While everyone and everything else had slipped through his fingers like so many grains of sand, Hawke had managed to hold onto Anders. To what they had. To moments like this. That was all that mattered.

“Maybe we skip Lothering,” he decided, nuzzling Anders’ cold neck. He took off the thick woolen scarf he’d been wearing, winding it gently around Anders’ throat before kissing him again. “Maybe we go visit the Anderfels where no one will notice you or your name. Until we wear out our welcome, that is.”

Anders laughed. “Oh, Hawke, I’m not sure that’s the sort of place one visits. There’s not much to see, and what little there is you can’t see anywhere on account of the dust storms. I suggest we stick to the plan and roam around Ferelden. Then later on, we broaden our horizons by booking passage to Rivain for the winter instead of roughing it here.”

“I’d like that.”

“If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s you liking whatever I propose that we do.”

“It’s just that I want to be with you, and I don’t care where.” The silence that followed his statement made Hawke suddenly uncomfortable so he continued to speak. “Isn’t it nice? That you can count on me, I mean. Not that you have to, but you could count on me whenever you need to.” He meant it as a sort of lighthearted query, but his tone had bit of worry laced around it towards the end.

“You are the absolute best person to count on, Garrett Hawke,” Anders promised, kissing Hawke soundly. “You always have been.”

Hawke smiled hopefully. "So maybe you can count on me to build that tree-house after all? It wouldn't a tree-chateau but I could make us something new and nice."

Anders laughed. "If it means so much to you, I suppose I would give it a try."

"Good. Let's go find ourselves a forest then."

Anders took Hawke's hand and lead him back to the path. "Let's."

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any mistakes/typos/whatever are my own because, although I did edit it a number of times, this is unbeta'd.
> 
> I'm debating writing more about this Hawke and Anders in terms of interactions with a male to-be-Inquisitor, Iron Bull, and the Chargers before the Conclave. And by debate, I mean I am plotting it out. Oops.


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